


Incorruptible

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teague's not altogether sure how he ended up in bed with two heretics and a whale god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incorruptible

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this, make sure to check out this post first: [Click Here](http://carvedwhalebones.tumblr.com/post/93143604293/what-if-quiet-corvo-this-man-of-a-very-few-words)
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> **Prompt:** "I challenge you to write the ultimate OTP4; Daud/Teague/Corvo/Outsider if you can manage." **Dishonored Tumblr:** carvedwhalebones.tumblr.com

A god doesn't mettle in the indulgent affairs of humans, even humans that he has graced with access to The Void. Yet here he is, a pleasant surprise, feeling rough and scarred fingers touch every inch of him. Corvo is different without the heavy gear and weapons that hang on his belt, bloody charms all on their own. Each scar is a bright ribbon of raised flesh, carrying a snow-white hue that dares to even be a shade paler than The Outsider. The one on his face makes his left eye more distinct, appearing dark compared to the pale strip of abused skin. The god watches the interplay of muscles and the way scars shift above it as the Lord Protector touches him. 

Corvo touches his skin, or at least what he perceives as skin, with his own brand of curiosity. His flesh is nothing but molecules of energy and ideas forged by The Void. It’s songs of the deep and brine off the teeth of those that inhabit the darkest corners of the ocean. Perhaps, just perhaps, Corvo can taste it when he leans down to kiss his bare, pale shoulder. All of this is just the piecing together of the very essence of The Void and arranging himself in such a way that is compatible to his environment. Covo wants to feel weight against his fingertips and suckle marks into his skin. 

He wants mortal flesh to be compatible with the supernatural. 

No one touches The Outsider. Those who make an attempt or a motion to often find themselves losing precious things. He doesn’t look kindly upon those who abuse his presence. Ah, but Corvo is different. He has always been different and he has always found small ways to accommodate the Lord Protector. Whether it is the beating heart of his passing Empress to stray little words of advice, he has always lingered a bit longer for Corvo. Corvo repays him with respect and with whatever pleasurable sensation he can yield with his war torn hands. The god needs nothing in return, but he accepts this gift. Corvo is an interesting character and he admires the mixture of reverence and a little something more being grazed across his skin. The Outsider allows himself not so much to feel, but to briefly be a receptacle of nerve endings. 

They’re not alone, however, to bear witness. 

Another bearer of his Mark shares the same bed.

Daud is less interesting than Corvo, but he’s enjoyed the curious ways the assassin challenges him. There is still very much of the stubborn youth he found in his shrines within Daud, still full of a particular brand of passion and determination that cannot be replicated or store bought. Their history runs deeper than his with Corvo’s and Daud still has the capabilities of surprising an old god. 

He does so through Teague Martin. Bringing the High Overseer in a bed filled with two heretics and one god? It’s a scandalous move that pushes and prods at The Outsider’s curiosity, watching with hooded black eyes the priest stare at him. The Outsider wonders what drove Martin to be here in this moment and stay. Is it just for the sake of carnal frivolities? To humor Daud’s request? Or is there something else? Does Teague Martin even know what is keeping him here?

The Outsider smiles, feeling like a dark-eyed feline being stroked in all the right places. He wonders if Teague would try to carve the Seven Strictures into the essence of oblivion. He wonders if this alone could snuff that stubborn light of faith that someone as vicious as Teague holds onto. Oh, the other Loyalists are pitiful foes compared to the very power Teague Martin can wield from his tongue alone. Maybe if he didn’t have such a guilt-stricken soul would Martin live a full and long life. So what will become of Martin’s conscious after this? Ah, it’s all terribly curious and The Outsider decides he’ll stay. He wants to see how this chapter plays out. 

The only thing restraining Teague is Daud and the familiar presence of Corvo. The dark-eyed being strikes a doomsday chord in his being, his eyes drifting to the marks shared on Daud and Corvo’s left hand. Could this be…The Outsider? He expected to see a twisting monster or something…grotesque, but whatever this truly is is terribly beautiful. He’s crafted out of lean muscles, giving him a rather slim look. His skin is untouched and bearing the youthful appearance of a young man with dark hair. Pale lips smile at him and hipbones just barely push out enough where fingers can easily slot around them and hold on tight. The dark eyes only give him a unfathomable sort of beauty and the damn thing exposes his neck tauntingly. 

Teague feels his teeth ache and his fingers twitch by his sides. He is either feverish and hallucinating, or that certainly is something spat out by The Void. The Overseer bares his teeth at the representative of The Void and the damn thing smiles. 

Daud is distracting. No mater how valiant he may be in simply staring at this stranger, Daud always pulls him back. And Martin is left with his gaze drifting from this damned thing roosting on the bed to Daud, who kisses the worry off of his brows.

“Have you lost your senses?!” he hisses as Daud’s lips kiss the spot between his brows. 

“Maybe,” he replies, his hands rubbing along Teague’s sides soothingly, “Look, you’ll be alright. You don’t have to stay.” Martin works his jaw but doesn’t move, instead only shifts his hips on the mattress to readjust himself. Daud gives a crooked smirk, rising up and moving down between Martin's legs. “Anyways, it’s not like you’re going to end up corrupted by this. You’re incorruptible,” he jests, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pushes the priest’s legs further apart. Teague looks far from impressed. 

His Overseer outfit is discarded and folded neatly in the room, and he’s unsure if he feels comfortable being exposed in the presence of the dark-eyed man. But Daud always has a way of making him budge and he’ll admit that there is something rather clever about that tongue of his. Teague groans softly to it now, his body shuddering when the flat of Daud’s tongue continues to swipe his tongue over his entrance. There are fingers resting against his thighs, keeping his legs wide apart as a tongue continues to tease the ring of muscles about his entrance. The assassin takes his time, allowing one hand to slide down to spread him further apart, kissing sensitive skin. Sometimes he’ll let a thumb smear saliva about before pushing in, earning an appreciative noise. Daud slowly wiggles his thumb about, beginning to stretch the Overseer with familiarity. 

“Stop teasing,” Martin eventually complains when Daud continues to tortuously repeat the action. He can already feel heat pooling in his groin and the damn assassin keeps on letting his scruff scrape his backside. The Overseer uses the heel of his foot to jab it at the older male’s hip, earning teeth biting playfully into the softness of his inner thighs. 

“Patience is a virtue, _High Overseer_ ,” Daud replies against flesh slick with saliva, the vibrations causing Teague to instinctually clench and barely lift his hips. Martin combats it with a scornful look. Daud flashes a smirk before fingers are pulling him apart, the dark-haired’s male sinking back into the bed as he feels an insistent tongue push through. It doesn’t take Martin long until he’s fisting into the sheets and rocking back into Daud, uncaring of the wet slide of groans that leave his mouth.

The immaculate Overseer is a disheveled mess on the bed, combed back hair in a disarray and panting. Corvo listens to the lust-saturated noises leave Teague’s mouth, the priest surprisingly loud for someone who wears composure like a well-fitted suit. He can only imagine what Teague looks like with his broad chest rising and falling, thick thighs of muscles trembling and heat collecting in the curve of his ears. He lets his imagination fill in the visual gap, his limbs focused to the dark-eyed god whose kisses and touch are like molasses. The way he lets his frozen fingertips drag over a nipple to the way he kisses his mouth is slow and heavy with the hum of the universe. The god tastes and relishes with newfound lips. He is neither forceful nor demure. He is simply curious and Corvo cannot help but let his hands stay on his smooth skin, making their home on his hips. 

Sometimes the insufferable god won’t kiss him. He’ll just let his lips hover over flesh — over his lips and watches Corvo resist the urge. He’ll swallow and hold true for a few minutes, before he, too, shakes like a discovered rune, eager to share its song. Corvo will kiss him with a gentleman’s mouth at first. It’s polite and not intrusive, testing the waters. Oh, this strange — marvelous — creature that refuses to spill blood will then open his maw, take another drink of The Outsider, and promises the unholiest of destructions. 

It always manages to tease and pique the god’s curiosity and does so now. It’s as if the Void didn’t quite expect to see such an action, especially in the company of others. It’s far different and alive now that he is finely tuned to human touch, earning a melodic moan that’s soft and caught within a sigh. Corvo devours the sound against his mouth before pulling away, licking his lips as if he can still taste the remnants of that sound off his lips. Corvo breathes the deity’s own words against his lips, “‘Strange how there’s always a little more innocence left to lose…’” 

The Outsider finds himself thrown into a state of pure delight and wonder, his interest in the Lord Protector snagging at the Void’s spine. The Void has never been so disastrously fascinated with a mortal before like Corvo.

He lets Corvo move forward to kiss color into his skin, teeth nipping and pulling. The Outsider gives Corvo his throat willingly, letting the Lord Protector give his own mark on his skin. 

The Lord Protector kisses the side of The Outsider’s neck, eyes finally moving to the writhing priest on the mattress. His hands remain on his hips as he drags his lips across the god’s skin, tasting salt and stardust. Teague’s exactly as he imagined and there is something poetic on the fact that a man that is representative of the Isles’ faith is spending the night with what the Abbey fears the most. With a low sound burning in the back of Corvo’s mouth, Daud’s eyes flick up to meet Corvo’s gaze.

A silent conversation is exchanged and Corvo carefully pulls away from The Outsider, his bottom lip puffed from Corvo’s past kiss. The Lord Protector leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth before moving across the bed towards Teague. 

Teague gives a sound in disappointment when Daud moves away, a calloused hand squeezing his knee in reassurance before moving across the bed. Martin watches him, letting his finger graze his ankle as he passes. He sits up when he spots Corvo round the bed, keeping himself up with his hands as the Lord Protector sinks into the spot in front of him. Martin moves on his knees so they can be at equal levels, Corvo’s fingers inquiringly resting above Teague’s knees in an inquiring gesture. Teague gives his assent with a nod. 

Corvo studies him like a mark with his fingers. They run across the scars on his belly to the grooves of his collarbone. There is every conflict Teague has experienced on his skin and Corvo reads it with ease, often sacrificing a hand to pull the Overseer closer until Martin’s forced to spread his legs wider to make room for Corvo’s knees. 

The Lord Protector’s hands slide over to his back, running against the divots of his spinal column and kneading the space between his shoulder blades. It eases him into a lull, but there is the occasional pressure that is brusque that keeps him from submerging into a loose haze. There is a sort of animal-like grace to Corvo’s movements, something raw and feral crackling under his fingertips despite his introductory touches. He can feel it in the way blunt fingernails suddenly dig into his backside, pulling him against Corvo until their arousals are rubbing against the other. There is something hot and greedy about the way Corvo continues to look at him. Here is the man who gives all his targets a fate far worse than death and the way a tongue licks one of his canine teeth speaks of ruination. Teague would be lying if he said it doesn’t make him flush with heat, as if he wants to be overwhelmed by something he knows will not hesitate to remove him if trifled with. 

Corvo's kisses are surprisingly rough and hungry; he can taste Teague’s blasé take of faith, but it’s riddled with something clever and quick that stings the bodyguard’s tongue. It catches the priest off guard, their teeth clicking and Martin wrapping his arms around Corvo’s neck for support. The Overseer growls into his mouth at the challenge, shamelessly rubbing himself against Corvo, feeling his kiss turn suddenly sloppy. 

Teague weaves himself a bit deeper, treating Corvo’s mouth like it’s nothing but a soul to be analyzed and conquered. The Overseer is manipulative with his mouth, coaxing little sounds of pleasure out of Corvo and leading the Lord Protector despite all the weight Corvo throws into his movements. There are fingers pushing into his hair, fingernails scratching the base of his skull and a tongue curling in his mouth. Feeling Teague’s tongue brush against the roof of his mouth never seems to fail in making the Lord Protector shudder.

Corvo can feel Teague’s smirk against his lips, already claiming victory over his mouth. The younger male tilts his mouth abruptly, throwing Martin’s kiss off-kilter, and bites on his bottom lip for good measure. Corvo earns a surprised sound from the Overseer when skin breaks. Corvo sucks on the sluggishly bleeding lip, his fingers moving to hold onto Martin’s jaw as if it was a goblet, the crimson communion tasting of copper and the incense used in the Abbey. There’s a spike of pain at the tiny cut being pulled, but Martin drinks it in all the same when his lips is relinquished. Corvo leaves Martin’s lip split and a dark shade of pink speckled with blood. 

Teague is the one to sacrifice a hand to sneak in between them, fingers reaching down to wrap around the both of them. Corvo immediately arches into the priest’s hand, giving a ragged exhale. Both of their heads turn down, foreheads brushing against the other as they watch Martin’s hand stroke them both. Occasionally he’ll move his hand to the tip, twisting his wrist with just enough pressure it’s close to painful. The bodyguard thrums in bliss throughout it all, his mouth catching the side of Teague’s cheek before it finds itself before his left ear. Corvo’s hand moves, partially laying over Teague’s and covering the space his fingers just can’t reach, the space between their hands now tight and warm. Covo nips at the priest’s earlobe, letting Teague keep up his unhurried pace. 

“Did that little black journal teach you this?” he purrs into Teague’s ear, the priest’s hand near stuttering in its pace in shock. Corvo’s hand leaves its spot over Teague’s, his fingers curling around Teague arousal tightly, earning a sharp hiss. Martin’s hand ends up digging into Corvo’s forearm, Corvo’s mouth still hot against his ear. The Lord Protector’s hand slides up slowly, a thumb moving to trace the ridge, feeling the older male shudder in his lap. The rough pad of his thumb glides up to tease the slit, “I’ve always wondered how you got the position so quickly…” Hips jerk against his and there’s a strangled moan that punches out. Corvo’s thumb turns up wet, idly smearing precum, listening to the priest swear in the aftermath. It feels like an admission and Corvo’s right side of his mouth curls as if he sees it as such too, only making Teague’s skin flush a bright red. 

Teague’s too stunned to give a witty rejoinder and it makes him want to gnash his teeth. He must admit he’s nothing but impressed with Corvo. Polite Corvo is nothing but blasphemous when under the covers and has managed to make the whole room feel scandalized. That’s deserving of praise, if not begrudgingly.

There are hands moving him, settling Martin on his knees, back facing Corvo. There’s fingers pushing at his spine for him to bend over and he complies, briefly distracted by the sight of Daud and the youthful god. The Outsider is laid out on the bed, currently having his hips lifted so one of the pillows can slide underneath it. Teague nearly forgot about them, still riding off of the high Corvo has been issuing into his ear. Corvo pulls his attention a way, once more, rubbing against the curve of his backside. 

The Overseer groans when he feels the younger male push his way in abruptly. Fingers and tongue have liberally stretched him out, but it isn’t enough to prepare him for the hungry way Corvo shoves himself inside. Daud holds more girth against Corvo, but Corvo is lengthier, gritting his teeth when he feels him deep inside of him. It makes his fingers fist into the bed sheet beneath him, hot hands sliding up his backside to squeeze the flesh, fingers digging into his skin. The Lord Protector makes a thick sound, letting Martin adjust as he leans forward, mouth somewhere on his shoulder blade. This thing of mostly teeth and blood groans out lowly into the sweat on his skin, “You’re still so tight.” Martin curses under his breath, the Lord Protector’s words nothing but the slide of heat running down his spine. The younger male gives an experimental roll of his hips, feeling muscles clench deliciously around him before pulling his hips back. Corvo is unrelenting and merciless in his thrusts, his pace not quite fast but he buries himself into him with each thrust. He feels his entire body shake at each impact, head lolling downward and staring at the body laid out in front of him. 

The Outsider’s — for who else could it possibly be? — eyes are carved out and filled with ink, not even reflecting the light of the room. He’s otherworldly, but so is Daud and Corvo. This deity is bare and whole, skin a bit chill but surprisingly carrying a youthful appearance. He’s crafted of lean muscles and pale skin, the only occupant who doesn’t carry a scar or any sort of blemishes. The only color on his skin is on his lips, the pads of his fingers and the tip of his cock. It’s a pretty pink and weakly leaking onto his lower abdomen. From his spot he has perfect viewing of Daud’s cock disappearing into this supposed god and pulling out. All in all, it’s a terribly beautiful image. 

Daud is reverent when he fucks The Outsider. His pace is slow and his gaze fixated on the god’s face. The dark-haired god’s legs are kept up, calves resting against Daud’s upper arms that are keeping him poised. There is something akin to worship in the way he bends down, forcing The Outsider’s legs closer to his torso, to kiss the god. It’s all teeth and twisted loyalty. It’s fierce prayers and sharp-edged promises, Daud groaning into the god’s mouth. The Outsider accepts it with knowing sort of curl sitting at the edge of his lips, hands reaching out to just settle on his freckled shoulder. The assassin sucks in the air harshly when he pulls his mouth away, nipping at The Outsider’s bottom lip and thrusts a bit more meaningfully into the deity. He’s all engrossing and the world revolves solely around them, the bed nothing but an altar for worship. The look Daud gives to the god is possessive, singular, endless and enamored. 

He’s never seen Daud like this.

Martin hates how the god can simply turn his eyes upward — something Martin cannot truly discern with his eyes being completely pitch black — and can easily see the irritation in his features. 

Martin swears the black-eyed prick is smirking at him when Daud leans back, leaving The Outsider’s arms to lay back down on the bed. _He knows._ The Overseer’s eyes narrow and he leans down, spontaneously kissing the unholy entity with nothing but malice on his lips. He wants to burn the damn god on the bed and he prays for fire to leap from his mouth, growling deep in his throat as he shoves his authority against the god’s lips. He hates the way he can taste Daud off his lips, the aftermath of cigar lingering on in his mouth. 

Daud makes a surprised sound, but Corvo practically makes a semblance of a purr in delight. He desperately wants to see, shifting his angle to catch a peek. The new angle has Martin losing his breath inside The Outsider’s mouth, a shaky whine pushed out when the Lord Protector hits that sweet spot. The Outsider devours his whines, taking advantage of the sudden vulnerability. He smoothly takes control and kisses the open-mouthed Overseer, tongue dancing against Martin’s, effectively stealing his breath. Martin can feel his lungs burn and burn and burn in his chest. He gasps for air when given the chance.

There are chilled fingers dancing across his neck, Martin looking down into the pale expanse of The Outsider’s throat. The god tastes of something wild and raw. He’s not sure if that is what is leaving him shaking or if it’s Corvo, relentlessly pounding into him that it’s sure to leave bruises. His gums tingle and his tongue goes nearly numb with whatever The Outsider is pouring into his mouth with a curious smile. All can Martin can do is feed him his moans in turn, using whatever strength left to simply keep himself up on his hands. He hates that he’s enjoying himself. He hates how he wants more. 

There are suddenly fingers in his hair, roughly pulling Martin up, his moans twisting into snarls in warning. Corvo is pulling him up, fingers soon sliding from his hair and to his neck in a disjointed movement. Martin’s scalp throbs at the abuse. He’s soon nearly flushed against Corvo’s torso, fingers not quite squeezing his throat but applying enough pressure where his breathing is laborious. Corvo snarls something nearly unintelligible into his ear and it sounds awful like _‘you just can’t help yourself.’_ It’s less about the words but the predatory sound coiling around his ear. There is a heady rush with the way Corvo thrusts into him and keeps him held up by his throat. He can feel his blood pulsing madly in his ears and the new angle only _teasingly_ nudges against the sweet spot. He wants more. Martin closes his eyes and squirms to readjust the angle, but Corvo only tightens his grip. 

He won’t beg. He'll be damned if he begs. 

There are fingers suddenly grazing his hipbone, opening his eyes to find Daud before him. There’s a breathless smile suddenly pulling on his lips at the sight. He can feel Daud’s gaze burn a hot trial across his exposed frame. Lips seal over his, Teague suddenly struggling between maintaining the kiss and remembering to breathe as Corvo continues to push deeply into him. Daud pulls back to let his fingers skim his stomach, dragging down to brush idly against Teague’s cock, earning a breathy sound. 

Corvo’s breath is suddenly hot against Martin’s ear, feeling teeth scrape the rim. “I’m sure there’s enough room for two,” the Lord Protector exhales out with exertion, instantly piquing Daud’s attention. It’s nothing but otherworldly how Corvo seems to perpetually make his ears and neck burn with color. The Lord Protector is usually quiet, and when spoken to relatively concise and polite with his words. In here there’s a rawness in his tongue and Teague can see Daud shares the same surprised sentiment. 

“How about that,” Daud replies, tongue licking the underside of his teeth, eyeing Corvo before turning to Teague. “You got room for one more damned soul, priest?” he lightly teases, earning a scoff from the Overseer before he’s making an impatient move against Corvo. Corvo complies by laying down on the bed, arms keeping Teague in place before sliding down under the priest’s thighs, keeping his legs apart.

Daud moves in, a hand settling over the left side of Teague’s ribs as the other rubs the inside of his thigh affectionately. He turns to the deity, seeking out his lips until he finds it. The Outsider is a balm in the sweltering heat of the bedroom, feeling his sweaty knees drag and catch the sheets underneath them. Daud can taste the scratch of sand and the cool rush of the ocean within the god’s mouth, the taste biting down his throat. When he pulls away, the god reaches down and picks up the hand settled on Teague’s thigh. Fingers push down his fingers, curling them into his fist, until only the index and middle are pointing. Lips part and there is a low groan burning in all of their gullets as they watch the youthful god take Daud’s fingers into his mouth. 

Fingers leave slick and dripping with saliva, leaving The Outsider to idly lick whatever excess that has managed to sit on his lips. Corvo stills when he feels fingers nudge and weasel in next to his cock. Martin grunts and holds onto Daud’s forearm, each slow push and curl twisting every grunt into drawn out notes. Corvo spills crude words into his available ear, unafraid to share his own eagerness in having the priest stretched out. If Daud doesn’t hurry, Corvo may be the one to send him over the edge. 

The malt in his accent is thick and honeyed when Daud abandons his fingers and slowly pushes himself in. Words are an incomprehensible mixture of names and swear words, head tipped back as he feels Corvo begin to rock his hips once more. There’s only the sensation of fullness and something akin to vibrant electricity that makes his toes curl and stretch. Corvo must be close because his pace is becoming haphazard and it’s making Daud’s grip tighten. 

There’s groan behind his ear and a sharp jerk of the hips before Corvo is stilling. Daud follows after, bending down to bite the hollow of the priest’s neck, grunting into his skin. He can feel spilled heat sitting inside of him, unsure if he finds the sensation uncomfortable or not. Teague gives a frustrated sound, his hand reaching down to finish him off but Daud slaps it away. 

“No,” he heaves out and Martin glares. He moves his hand once more, but the movement is aborted when Corvo lifts Teague up so he can slide out. There is the acute sensation of something wet dribbling out of him, making him squirm throughout the whole process of Corvo trying to slide his way out from underneath Martin. His back feels slick with sweat and Daud is pulling away, the priest groaning at the loss. He can feel himself drip onto sheets.

Martin stretches out as much as he can on the bed, his skin flushed and coated in sweat and teethmarks. He realizes, with the approach of The Outsider, why Daud wanted him to keep his hands to himself. Despite it all, The Outsider still remains otherworldly and composed as he crawls between Martin’s legs. Chilled hands rest on his thighs and despite the marks on the god’s skin, it has done nothing to diminish the sheer presence of the enigmatic being. Little secrets sit on the curve of the deity’s lips as he bends his frame down, letting his swollen bottom lip drag across the tip of his cock. 

This surely is an entirely new, unreachable level of heresy a High Overseer has ever committed. Blue eyes watch the slow glide of his lip and the smooth transition to kissing the side of his length. He bites back a groan when he sucks on an engorged vein, the sound nearly twisting into a whine when a cool tongue flicks across it. He’s already dangerously close and The Outsider seems to take notice. The dark-eyed god glances up at him, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips before he slips him into his mouth. Teague feel the flat of his tongue against the underside — 

_“Fuck!”_

Martin arches into the god’s throat, groaning as he feels the god only drink him in, pink lips still stretched around his cock. He’s aesthetically pleasing as he slowly moves his mouth off of him with a wet slurp. Corvo is somewhere beside the god immediately and there is something warm nudging him in the rib. He turns to the side to find Daud, hair a wild mess and curling at the ends from sweat. He buries his mouth into the sweaty crook of his neck. 

There is a wet silence shared amongst them, catching their breath in the post-coital haze. Corvo’s hand reaches out for Teague, rough fingers meeting his knee. A simple gesture of concern, Corvo still a gentleman despite the sloppy filth that can erupt from his lips when he’s flesh-to-flesh with another. Martin nods, moving an exhausted arm to let his fingers curl lightly over the assassin’s knuckles. He lets his fingers stay there before letting his hand fall limp onto the bed in exhaustion. 

Corvo shifts and does the same to his neighbor, but he kisses the side of The Outsider’s neck just beneath his ear. It’s tender and soft, never failing to amuse the god. What a strange mortal Corvo is. The Outsider turns his head and pours another little secret down Corvo’s throat, tongue licking his back molars. Corvo swallows it down and pants at the heat before settling back down, pleased and warm on the bed. 

Daud is the one who breaks the silence, voice rough against Teague’s ear, “Heresy looks good on you, High Overseer.”

Martin stares at the ceiling for a moment, pensive and pulling his bottom lip into his mouth in thought before giving a concluding nod. He closes his eyes and replies with that familiar nonchalant drawl, “Yes, I suppose he does look good on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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